


Party Games

by arituzz



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drinking, Drinking Games, Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Lots of kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Party Games, Set before carry on, Smut, Swearing, Watford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arituzz/pseuds/arituzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How to fall for your enemy - A Dummies Guide</p><p>Playing games is an innocent and harmless thing to do. Except when you get so caught up in the game that don’t know if you are playing or not anymore, and then… Well. Then you burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Set the game

**Author's Note:**

> Don't try this at home.

**BAZ**

“Of all the stupid ideas you idiots have ever had, this is by far the stupidest one. And that’s to put it nicely.” I don’t know why I agreed to this. We are sitting, forming a circle, in the middle of an empty classroom. Snow is seated directly across from me. Great, now I have full sight of him.

“You’re free to go if you want to,” he says.

“We were here before you arrived,” I protest. “I’m not moving.”

“Come on Baz, let’s play,” Dev pleads. “It will be fun!” he says. Fucking traitor.

“Okay, so which game should we play?” the pixie asks.

“Never have I ever,” Wellbelove says, nonchalantly, as if she’s done this sort of thing many times.

Everybody agrees excitedly. I curse.

“Does everybody know how this works?” Snow asks, and they all look at me.

“‘Course I do, I’m not daft,” I sneer.

Niall fills eight glasses of whisky and passes one to each of us. Bunce casts “ ** _Fair and square!_** ” so no one can cheat.

“Let’s start, then,” Wellbelove says. “Simon?”

“Never have I ever smoked,” he says.

I shrug and take a good sip of my glass. It tastes awful but fuck if I’m going to let them think I can’t hold a drink. Wellbelove drinks, too.

“Never have I ever told a lie,” Bunce says. Everybody drinks. What a surprise.

It’s Dev’s turn. “Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex,” he says.

As expected, the pixie and her girlfriend take a sip, giggling. Wellbelove drinks as if nothing’s the matter and Bunce looks at her, curious.

“What?” she says, “I kiss my Normal friends on a regular basis, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“You’ve never kissed me.” Bunce argues.

“Well, you’re not Normal, are you?

“I don’t see what my not being Normal has to do with kissing.”

“Nevermind, Penny, it’s a normal thing, okay?”

Niall discreetly reaches for his glass. Of course we all see it, since none of us is blind. (Except maybe Snow.) (That would actually explain a lot of things.)

Dev looks at Niall expectantly, silently asking for an explanation.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he snaps. And the game continues.

“Never have I ever had a one-sided crush,” Niall says.

I freeze. At least mentally, because my body has different plans. My hand moves against my will and reaches for the glass. Might as well drink, then. I’m starting to feel tipsy. Shit. I look up at Snow, who is also staring at me, through his own glass. _What?_ Oh, right, Wellbelove. I had almost forgotten they’re not a thing anymore.

When he’s done drinking he asks, “So, who’s your crush, Baz?”, as if he genuinely wants to know. But I know he just wants to take the piss.

I blush. Fuck. This can’t possibly get worse. “None of your fucking business,” I spit. And because It’s my turn—and because I’m a masochist—I say, “Never have I ever had sex.”

Snow keeps staring at me, and my mind takes a moment to register that he’s not drinking. _He’s not drinking_. I don’t know why exactly but I’m extremely relieved about that. Maybe this game is not so bad after all. I feel myself spacing out from the conversation around me. Must be the alcohol.

The game seems to be continuing because I find myself drinking again, involuntarily. All I can see right now are blue eyes. Bronze curls.

 

**SIMON**

Baz is getting drunk. I can tell. His cheeks are reddish. I’ve never seen him like this. Can vampires even get drunk? I guess so.

I can’t keep my eyes off him. He can’t keep his eyes off me. What is he planning? Whatever his evil scheme is, he won’t catch me by surprise.

“Never have I ever plotted to kill someone,” I say. My eyes fixed on Baz. But he doesn’t drink. He doesn’t even seem to be following the game anymore. Sometimes he drinks but doesn’t seem to notice or care. He just keeps staring at me. And I keep staring at him. I won’t let him win this battle. Because this is a battle. Right?

Some rounds afterwards, Baz says, “Never have I ever kissed one of my lover’s moles.” Merlin, what kind of question is this? No one drinks. Not even Agatha. I can feel Baz’s gaze on my right cheek. I have moles there. Okay, I can play this game too. He won’t lure me into his plan.

I wait until my turn to say, “Never have I ever slipped my fingers through my lover’s smooth and dark hair.” I’d say I’ve never thought of doing that to Baz before. But I guess that would be a lie.

Baz looks surprised. Ha. Didn’t see that one coming, did you? “Never have I ever licked someone’s cheek,” he says. It’s not even his turn.

“Never have I ever sucked someone’s lips,” I follow.

“Never have I ever grabbed someone by their shirt’s collar and snogged them senseless,” Baz replies.

“Never have I ever clenched my fist in someone’s hair while kissing the living hell out of them.” Okay, I don’t know where that came from, but it works. Baz’s eyes go wild.

“Guys, this is not funny anymore,” Penny announces. “We’re leaving.”

I don’t care to help cleaning up. Neither does Baz. Once we’re alone, I stand up and walk towards him, our eyes still locked. “Baz,” I say. “You’re wasted.”

“Am not,” he retorts. But then he tries to stand up and trips, stumbling onto me. I grab him by his shoulders. “This is embarrassing, Snow.” He is so close I can smell his breath.

I shrug.

“Never have I ever kissed Simon Snow,” Baz whispers into my mouth, our lips almost touching.

I close the distance and kiss him. First soft and tentative. Then desperate and sloppy. I push him against the wall and clench my fists in his hair. I finally have him where I want.

 

**BAZ**

I don’t know what’s happening. I may have drunk way too much because I’m hallucinating. Simon bloody Snow is kissing _me_. I take him by the back of his neck and lose myself in the kiss.

 

**SIMON**

I separate my mouth from his. I move my head back a few inches and make him reach for my lips.

 

**BAZ**

I reach for him. I don’t have much control over my actions right now, but I’d do it anyway. I’d do anything for him. Crowley, I need to stop. I don’t want to hurt him.

It takes all my strength to pull back.

“Simon…” I say. “Room.”

 

**SIMON**

I take Baz to our room. He is so drunk he can’t even walk without my help.

I start the water of the shower and put him in. He grabs my wrist and pulls me into a wet kiss, cold water running onto us.

“Snow,” he says after a while. “You’re ruining my clothes.”

“I… uh…” Merlin, he’s gorgeous. “Sorry,” I say, but don’t stop the water. Because a soaked Baz is a better Baz.

 

**BAZ**

I stop the water and take this imbecile out of the shower. I spell our clothes dry and we collapse on my bed.

I put an arm around him and kiss a mole on his neck. I rest my head there. I never want to wake up from this dream.

**SIMON**

I run my fingers through his hair. It’s smoother than what I had imagined. Why had I imagined that?

I watch him sleep until I fall asleep, too. I can’t wait to kiss him again tomorrow.


	2. Play like you mean it

**BAZ**

The first thing I notice is the smell of smoke. Snow. Then I notice something wet and warm on my chest. I open my eyes and I see _him_.

I can’t find any plausible explanation for why I have a very sleepy Simon Snow in my bed.

I indulge myself into watching him sleep for a few minutes. He’s a mess. His hair is even more unruly than usual. He’s got drool falling down the corner of his mouth and onto my jumper. I imagine myself licking it and then kissing him awake. Crowley, I could get a fucking boner right now. Thank snakes I haven’t fed yet, because Snow’s leg is dangerously near my crotch.

“Snow,” I say after some minutes. “Get out of my bed.”

He doesn’t open his eyes but mumbles something unintelligible.

I harrumph.

He then starts to regain consciousness and looks at me, confused.

“Snow,” I repeat. “What the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“You…” he starts, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?” I start to think about last night. The last I remember is blue eyes. Bronze curls. Right, we were playing.

“You were drunk.”

“And you took care of me?” I say, sarcastically.

“Sort of…” There’s an amused twinkle in his eyes. I feel the blood pulsing through his vein, near the mole on his neck. And I think I might bite him. Or worse, kiss him.

“Out of my bed, I shout. “Now!” But I don’t wait to see if he complies. I jump and run into the bathroom. I desperately need a shower.

 

**SIMON**

I spend all day thinking about the mind-blowing kisses Baz and I shared last night. He says he doesn’t remember. The tosser. I don’t believe him. Of course it was his plan all along. To drive me mad. And cause my downfall.

But I have a plan, too. Tonight we’re playing again. Agatha is convincing Dev and Niall to drag Baz along. I’m glad she insisted on it. So I don’t have to beg her.

This morning, Baz stepped out of the bathroom with his hair wet, water dripping on his face. And then I remembered him, soaked wet, pinning me to the wall of the shower. One of the best moments of my life.

There’s a list in my head of things I didn’t know I needed. And all of them are Baz. Soaked Baz is at the top of it.

 

**BAZ**

I agree to play the stupid game. Only because there is a high chance that I’m going to be kissing Simon Snow. We’re going to play _Spin The Bottle_. The magickal version.

We’re in the empty classroom again, same positions as yesterday. With the annoying addition of the two blokes who live in the room under ours. And no alcohol today.

Snow is determined to make my life hell. Burning hot torture. He’s staring at me with flaming eyes. He bites his lower lip and my stomach flips. It’s so erotic he should wear a warning label. It’s going to be the end of me. (He’s trying to set me on fire.) (And I’m easily flammable.)

While Snow continues with his pornographic display of teeth, Bunce explains the rules of the game for those who don’t know. She casts “ ** _Spin it like you mean it_** ” to a bottle. That way, if you spin it with honest eagerness, it will land on the person with whom you have most chemistry. That’s why I’m 99% sure I’m going to end up kissing Simon fucking Snow.

The game starts and the half-pixie spins the bottle. It lands on Wellbelove. The pixie says she didn’t put much enthusiasm in spinning, but her girlfriend just shrugs. The two girls meet in the middle of the circle and share a quick kiss. Wellbelove doesn’t seem much pleased.

When the girls are done, my eyes lock on Snow’s again. They’re like a trap made for the sole purpose of capturing me. Because when I look into them, I can’t see anything else. (Except his mouth.) (And his moles.)

Our staring contest is interrupted by the two new blokes, who are now in the middle, kissing torridly—well, that’s new. Not that I give a fuck. I don’t even know their names. A minute later—a minute too much for my own sake—they return to their seats, leaving us way to continue our gazing battle.

Except, it’s Snow’s turn to spin the bottle.

He reaches for it, tentatively, looks at me for a second, and then spins it fiercely. The bottle starts spinning frantically and after a very long moment it stops, pointing undoubtedly at me. I suppose a big part of me expected— _wished, craved desperately for_ —that, but it’s still a wonder.

The rest are dead silent, looking at Snow, inquisitively.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says, Chomsky knows why.

He stands on all fours and waits for me in the middle. I move closer to him until our fingertips brush. The touch sends shivers down my spine. I can’t quite pinpoint if the cause is my infatuation for this imbecile or the fact that he practically irradiates magic.

Snow looks at me like I’m one of those stupid cherry scones. About to be eaten. His fingers reach for my cheek and caress it. And then, ever so slowly, he presses his lips against mine.

 

**SIMON**

_Merlin._ Merlin and Morgana and Methuselah. It’s good to kiss him again.

 

**BAZ**

Kissing Simon Snow is nothing like I had imagined. My imagination was never this good. Or gentle. And I lean into him. Because I’m a fucking disgrace to myself.

 

**SIMON**

I count to ten and then let go. It’s a struggle but I have to. I don’t want the rest to think I’ve fallen into Baz’s trap.

We go back to our places and the game continues. I keep glancing at him to make him feel uncomfortable. I don’t know if it’s working. He stares at me with hungry eyes. Like I’m his prey. Is he gonna bite me? Was this his plan the entire time?

Agatha lands three times on herself before she decides to pass turn.

Then Penny spins and the bottle lands on Agatha. They kiss like people do on TV. Passionately. Wow. I don’t know what to feel about my best friend kissing my ex-girlfriend. I think I like it.

Is it okay that I like it? Is it okay that I liked Rhys and Gareth kissing, too? Is it okay that I like Baz? Wait, no. I don’t _like_ Baz. That’s not okay.

Next is Dev, who lands on Niall. They kiss shyly.

Then Niall lands on Dev, too, and they kiss fiercely.

I look at Baz again, it’s his turn. He grabs the bottle and spins it, nonchalantly. I hope it lands on me. I wish it so hard I think I wish it with magic. And it lands on me.

Baz crawls to the middle and I almost fucking fly there. I grab him by his uniform tie and pull him on top of me. I kiss him so hard I think I’m hurting him. Good.

 

**BAZ**

I can’t think. Snow clenches his fist in my hair and, to my utter embarrassment, I let out a moan.

 

**SIMON**

He moans and I lose it. I bite his lower lip until it’s sore.

I don’t know how much time has passed but I guess we’ve been shoved off the game by now.

 

**BAZ**

The moronic idiot keeps teasing me until I feel drunk. Drunk on Simon Snow. I let my hands touch the skin under his shirt and it feels like I’ve claimed it before.

After a long time we’re both panting. The room is empty. We’re lying on the floor, me still on top of him.

“I think we should sleep,” I tell him.

“I don’t want to move,” he replies.

“Neither do I,” I say. “Ever.”

I place myself on the floor by his side and spell ourselves a small bed. And some privacy. I kiss his forehead, softly. “Good night, Simon.”

 

**SIMON**

I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know if my plan has succeeded or not. I don’t remember what the plan was. I’ll think about it tomorrow. Maybe.

I let Baz hug me into sleep. “'Night, Baz.”


	3. Keep playing and don't ask

**SIMON**

I wake up feeling the cold absence of Baz’s body. And the cool floor.

I slept in his arms last night—and the night before, he slept in mine. Now, I feel sort of empty. Like in one of the Humdrum’s dead spots. Only, I do feel my magic. I’m full of it. But I still feel empty. I wonder why.

I wonder where Baz is.

I go to our room to see if he’s there, but he’s not in his bed. I hear the water running from the bathroom. The shower.

I try to open the door but it’s locked from the inside. Merlin, I need to enter. “ ** _Open Sesame,_** ” I say, and the door opens. And so do the cupboards and the windows and the drawers. And the shower curtains.

“Oh,” I say, stupefied.

Baz doesn’t seem to notice me. It’s steamy. He’s got his back to me. His head is tipped forward, hands resting against the tiles of the shower, water drilling into his scalp.

He’s naked. Very naked. _Completely_ naked.

I don’t realize I’ve been walking towards him until I’m breathing onto his back. And that’s when he notices me.

I cover his mouth with my hand before he can protest and start placing kisses on his shoulders and his neck, beneath the shower hot spray. Then, with my free hand, I reach for his prick. He lets out a moan the moment I touch it. I start stroking it slowly. Then a little faster. And faster. My mouth goes to his left ear and I bite it. All it takes is for me to whisper a soft “Baz” for him to come undone. He whimpers as he kisses my hand. Fuck, I could come right now.

 

**BAZ**

Snow storms out of the bathroom. I don’t have enough strength to go after him. I’m still panting from the brain-shattering orgasm he’s endowed me with.

It takes me a few minutes to actually move. I get out of the shower and get dressed for classes. But I still can’t think.

Snow is already in class when I walk in. I sit on the front row so I don’t have to see him. But it doesn’t work. I feel his gaze on my neck like it were his breath and it sends shivers down my spine.

I risk a glance at him and I find him staring at me. He’s got a pen in his mouth and his tongue is playing with it. Aleister Crowley.

What’s going on on that dumb mind of his? I’m clueless.

 

**SIMON**

Teasing Baz is my new favourite thing. Okay, that’s not _new_. Sexually teasing him. That’s new. He gets all flustered every time I look at him with lustful eyes.

I love this game. Because I’m winning. I’m finally one step ahead of Baz’s plotting.

Although maybe there are some side-effects. I stare at a bite mark on my hand—right where Baz was kissing before. This morning, after the shower episode, I had to hide in the nearest closet and wank myself off. I lasted approximately five seconds. I had to bite my hand to keep myself from shouting Baz’s name. I bit it so hard it’s left a nasty mark.

But that doesn’t mean I like Baz that way. It doesn’t mean I like him _at all_. Right?

 

**BAZ**

When the classes are over, I run to the catacombs to feed myself some rats.

Between classes, Snow grabbed me by my wrist and shoved me into a deserted corridor. He reached for my hair and pushed me against the wall. His eyes full of lust and need. Then, he kissed me. And I kissed him back. I got so carried away I thought I was going to bite him. He made a gesture to take his cross off but I stopped him on time. And then I had to run away to hide my embarrassment.

So here I am now, feeding myself full. To make sure I don’t suck Simon Snow to death while he’s sleeping.

When I’m done, I make my way back to our room. I’m fucking terrified. I don’t know what to expect from Snow anymore.

Should I give in to whatever he thinks he’s doing?

Should I step away and save myself more torment? Ha. Not happening.

I reach the top floor of Mummers tower and open the door to our room. It’s dark inside, but I can see perfectly well, anyway. That’s why I notice the figure in my bed. 

Simon fucking Snow.


	4. Poker Face

**BAZ**

Simon Snow is sleeping in my bed. I can see his chest rising and falling, even in the darkness. I change into my pyjamas and lie on the bed beside him, trying not to touch him. (That would be terrible.) (I just got fed.)

He’s wearing his watford pyjamas, but I can see some of the moles below his neck. I wish I could trace them with my lips.

I watch him until I fall asleep, too.

* * *

I wake up in the middle of the night feeling something hot on my skin. Fingers. Snow’s fingers. Snow’s fingers on my skin. Under my pyjamas. I don’t dare to open my eyes in case this is a dream.

Snow’s fingers go from my back to my stomach, and rest a moment there. Then, they start going _down_ , ever so slowly. He plays with the hem of my underpants. Crowley, I’m already half hard. Is he going to do it again?

I don’t have time to think for an answer because Snow’s hand slips under my underwear and begins to tease me. Fuck. He’s going to do it again.

He starts stroking my length. I want to touch him, too. But, what if I do and he doesn’t like it? What if he doesn’t touch me anymore?

Crowley, I want to touch him. I reach for his stomach but he stops me before I can touch him. He takes my hand with his free one and laces his fingers with mine. Then, he stops wanking me and jumps on top of me, moving me so I’m on my back. He takes both my hands and places them over my head. And then he kisses me.

He kisses me like he’s fighting me. His mouth attacks mine and his tongue is the weapon he uses to claim entrance. But of course I let him in without much violence. He still holds my wrists on place so I can’t move them.

He finally lets go of my hands and stops attacking my mouth. Only to attack the rest of my body before swallowing me whole. I grab his hair as he drives me over the edge.

When I finish, Snow disappears into the toilet. I know better than to follow him.

 

**SIMON**

It’s the second time I wank thinking about that bastard. It’s the second time I bite myself so as not to scream his name and wake everyone. But I’m still winning.

_Because this is a game._

I’m winning but I don’t really feel like a winner. I spend the rest of the night awake, pacing in the bathroom. However fast my pacing is, I can’t keep up with the fast beating of my heart.

* * *

The next day, Baz spends all the time staring at me. Not that I stare back or anything. I’m just watching him. Controlling him. And if I bite my lips more than usual or lick my fingers _accidentally_ , that’s not my fault.

Between classes, I grab Baz by his wrist again and shove him against the wall in an empty corridor. I just want to make it clear that the game is still on and that I’m still the winner. So I take his face in my hands and kiss him breathless.

When I’m about to leave, he grabs me by my shoulder and whispers in my ear “Stay.” He takes my hand into his and laces our fingers together. “Simon, I–” His eyes are locked with mine and I feel like I’m drowning.

“No!” I cut him. _I’m not going to lose_. “Fucking don’t.” I let go of his hand and walk away.

* * *

I wait for Baz to come to our room. He’s later than usual. What the fuck is taking him so long? Is this also a move in his plan to driving me insane? Because it’s working.

The door knob twists and I’m facing Baz before I can think better. My arms are already around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. I’ve been waiting all evening to tell him something. But I’m too distracted by his lips moving around my mouth and his tongue dangerously tasting mine to remember what I was going to say.

He shoves me onto his bed and pulls my shirt over my head. I feel his hands all over my body. Killing everything I’m trying to think.

_I’m losing._

I free myself from his grip. (It’s a struggle.)

I step as far away from him as I can.

“Baz,” I say. I can’t look at him. One glance and he wins. “I can’t do this.” I take a breath before adding, “I’m not gay.” I’m not.

I’m not. I’m not. It’s all his fault. His game. His plan. No way I’m falling into his trap.

I’m not gay. _It’s just a game._

I take a moment to look back at him. I get closer to him, again. I don’t remember why I moved away from him in the first place.

My mouth finds its way to his tongue. (And my hands find their way under his shirt.)

“You’re not gay?” he asks against my mouth.

“I’m not,” I tell him, between kisses. “I don’t like this.” I do.

I take his hair into my fist and pin him down against his bed. My other hand has a conscious of its own and is halfway to Baz’s crotch.

“Snow,” he says as I unzip his pants. “You sure have a funny way to tell me to back off.”

 

**BAZ**

I’m done trying to figure out what this imbecile thinks he’s doing. I’m just going to take whatever he gives me. Because I’m fucking weak.

“This is nothing,” he says when I finish. “ _This_ ,” he continues “means nothing at all. It’s just a game.”

“Then why can’t I touch you?” I want to ask him. But I can’t.

Snow manages to make me both the happiest and saddest boy alive. Well, not exactly _alive_. “Okay,” I manage to mumble. “There is no _this_.” And because I can’t help it I add, “You must be a fool if you think I’d ever want something with you.” That face. “I hate you, Snow.” That is the face I’m in love with. I lean in for another kiss.

“Mm… yeah…” he mumbles into my mouth. “I hate you, too.”

He stays all night in my bed but we don’t sleep.

He said this was a game to him. But he’s playing blindfolded and can’t see my poker face.  I’ll play along until he lays his cards on the table. All I do is lose, either way.


	5. Play dirty: Try slapping when kisses don't work

**SIMON**

“Four times?” Penny is giving me a Simon-are-you-off-your-trolley stare that not even her thick glasses can buffer. “You’ve slept with him _four_ times,” she accuses, rather than asks. Pure Penny style.

“Not _with_ him,” I tell her. “ _Beside_ him, rather.”

She adjusts her glasses with her middle finger and decides she’s done with lunch. “Different preposition,” she says. “Same difference.” She’s now giving me her patented Judgemental Stare. This is bad.

“Merlin, Penny,” I protest, taking her plate and stuffing the last piece of roast beef in my mouth. “There’s a huge difference, and you know it,” I mumble.

“Fine,” she gives in, softening her features. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah.” I fix my eyes on the now empty plate. If only we were allowed to repeat lunch, then I could avoid this conversation. Plus, more food. Double win. “Baz is evil and has a plan to finish me off, but I’m one step ahead this time,” I say, my eyes still on the plate.

“I’ll regret asking this later but,” Penny pauses for a moment, as if reconsidering it. “What is this evil plan, exactly?”

“Oh, uhm,” I say to the plate. “Baz is… Trying to…” I take a breath and say, “He wants to seduce me and attack me when my guard is down.”

Penny lets out a laugh. A loud one.

In my defense I’ll say it sounded better in my head. Why do some things lose all sense when you say them aloud?

I look up at her again.

“Nicks and Slick, you’re serious,” she realizes. “Attack you how? With his mouth?” She tries and fails to suppress another laugh, then continues, “So what are you doing to fight this terrifying plan of his?”

“I’m making him fall for me instead.”

“I think you have no idea what you’re doing,” she says, so matter-of-factly that it leaves no place for arguing. Penny usually has that effect on people.

Breaking news – I may have no idea what I’m doing.

We start heading out of the dining hall in silence and I think she’s going to leave without any further discussion when she stops and turns around, looking at me. Studying me. Penelope’s studying face can be very frightening. Hands down one of the most terrifying things I’ve seen. And I’ve killed a dragon. “Are you sure you don’t…” she starts. “Like him?”

Wait. What?

“I don’t like Baz,” I hurry to say. “He’s the enemy.”

“You’ve slept with the enemy, Simon,” she says. “Four times.”

“I’ve slept _beside_ the enemy. Since first year,” I clarify. “And you kissed Agatha during the game, too, that doesn’t mean you like her, does it?”

“Yeah but we don’t go around snogging between classes.”

“You saw that?”

“You’re not being as sneaky as you think.”

“Anyway, it’s not like he likes me either… He hates me,” I say, realising for the first time thatI’m not exactly happy about that. “And I don’t like him,” I add.

“Okay,” Penny says.

I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t like him,” I repeat.

“Sure, Simon.” I can see she’s trying hard not to laugh.

“I don’t,” I insist.

Penny raises one of her accusing eyebrows and says, “Nobody said you did.”

“You asked. I just want to make it clear.”

“Yeah, Simon. You made it clear.” Penny stares me down, smiling like she knows better. (She always does.) (Know better.)

“Let’s play _Slap or Kiss_ tomorrow and you’ll see,” I suggest. “I’m going to slap him so hard.”

“What about the evil plan and your,” she pauses. I see the corners of her lips fighting a smirk. “Clever comeback?”

“This will confuse him.”

“Simon.”

“What?”

“It’s ridiculous,” she says. “This will backfire. Spectacularly. Like most of your plans do.”

Okay, she has a point.

“I don’t. Like him,” I insist for the last time.

“Okay,” Penny finally concedes. She breaks her know-it-all façade and grabs my arm.  “Just– Be careful.”

* * *

 

I can’t bring myself to face Baz until it’s nighttime and I have no other option but to go to our room.

I open the door, hoping he’s still out there somewhere, or already asleep, or transformed into a really small and ugly insect. Preferably the kind that doesn’t sting. Although if Baz _was_ an insect, he’d be a mosquito. Or a louse. You know, a bloodsucker.

But no. Of course not.

He’s on his bed, still as human as the last time I saw him. (Not much.) He’s looking at me as if I’m his husband and I arrive two hours late for dinner. He looks… hurt. And angry. Is it because I’ve been avoiding him?

“Baz,” I say. “Are you okay?”

Baz schools his features and steers his attention back to his book. “Since when do you care?”

“I don’t,” I lie. “I was just being polite.”

“Save it,” he says, dismissively.

Whatever. He can be hurt and angry on his own. He’s not my husband. Not my insect. Not my anything.

(Well, he’s my roommate.) (And lover.)

(No. He’s just my roommate.)

(Isn’t he?)

“This thing that’s going on between us…” I start, taking a step towards him. “We should stop.”

“What thing?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

He lifts his eyes from his book and looks back up at me. Not a trace of emotion left. “Sure,” he says.

I stand there, right before Baz’s bed. Looking at him.

“What else do you want, Snow?”

I step a little closer and start leaning in, but I stop midway from Baz’s lips. Baz has closed his eyes. “Nothing,” I say, standing back up. “Ah, yes,” I remember.  “Do you want to join us tomorrow for a late evening game?” I ask him. “Dev and Niall, too.”

He opens his eyes again, a mixture of surprise and suspicion in his eyes. And… disappointment? “We aren’t friends, Snow,” he says.

“We’re playing _Slap or Kiss_.”

He seems to consider it for a moment. “Fine, Snow. We’ll come,” he finally agrees. “Can I read now?”

“Truce, then?”

I extend my hand for him to shake. (Maybe I just want to touch him.)

He keeps staring at me, and I keep waiting, _craving_ for his touch. Like the first time we met.

“Truce,” he says after approximately one hundred years, and takes my hand.

I linger a moment longer than necessary.

How can someone feel so cold but so warm at the same time?

* * *

 

**BAZ**

It doesn’t do me any good to come to these weekend game encounters with Snow and his stupid pack. It doesn’t do me any good to stare at his stupid face with all his stupid moles and his stupid blue eyes. It definitely doesn’t do me any good, either, to imagine my fingers running through his stupid tousled curls.

Crowley, I want to kiss him. And slap him.  I want to slap him, then kiss him.

“Okay, so the game goes like this,” Bunce starts. “Someone spins the bottle.”

“It’s not spelled this time,” Snow chimes in.

Bunce continues, “Whoever it lands on, has to leave the room. While they’re gone, we all vote whether the person who spun the bottle should slap or kiss that other person. Whichever option gets the most votes is what you have to do.”

“Now that’s what I call fun,” Dev comments, grinning.

Niall materialises a bottle of whisky from under his cape and pours each one of us a glass.  I have to ask him where he gets those from.

I take my glass and put it aside. I’ve learned my lesson, thank you very much. Booze – not the kind of friend I want to invite to my parties. (More like the kind I want to drown my sorrows in.)

“Niall, you’re the best, mate,” the belt buckle guy—Gareth, I think—says, patting Niall’s back. When did these two become friends?

A wistful expression crosses Dev’s face so quickly I almost miss it.

“So… who goes first?” Gareth asks, taking a sip of his glass.

Wellbelove shrugs and says, “I’ll go.” She reaches out and spins the bottle.

It lands on Dev. He makes an annoyed face and goes out of the room.

“I vote you slap him,” Snow says. He holds his drink in his hands and takes a gulp.

Only to see Niall’s reaction, I say, “I vote they kiss.”

Immediately after, Niall says, “Slap,” without hesitating. The rest vote and slap wins out.

Wellbelove lets Dev back in and they settle in the middle of the crowd.

Dev exchanges a quick look with Niall. Seriously, what is going on with them? Are they mad at each other?

“Sorry, Dev, you’re not my type,” Wellbelove says, and slaps him. I don’t think _anybody_ is her type.

It’s the pixie’s turn. She spins the bottle and it lands on Bunce. The vote is unanimous – we all want them to kiss. Even Keris. The pixie doesn’t seem to mind.

When Bunce returns, the pixie grabs her face and forces her lips onto Bunce’s. And Bunce forces back.  It’s almost like they’re fighting, instead of kissing. A hate-kiss.

Bunce’s irritation is almost palpable after that.

Then Keris spins the bottle and Snow has to leave the room. He takes a sip of his glass and gets up.

“Slap,” I say, smirking, before he even gets out. He spares me a quick, disgruntled glance and turns for the door.

Snow comes back in, only to be slapped by Keris. I grace him with a satisfied grin, and the game goes on.

 

**SIMON**

Penny kisses Agatha again.

I don’t have time to think about whether I’m okay with that before it’s my turn.

I spin the bottle and I wish it lands on Baz. Because I want to slap him. (Because I want to kiss him.)

But the bottle stops right before Gareth. Shit. I down my whisky and pour myself some more.

“Slap,” I hear Baz saying as soon as the door closes behind Gareth. Tosser. He wants me to hurt my friends. Is this some kind of psychological game of his to drive me insane?

Well, fuck him, because the rest vote for kiss. I’m going to kiss him so hard.

I look at Baz while I kiss Gareth. I take his face with my hands and move it slightly to the side, this way I can have a better sight of Baz.

Baz’s eyes are blazing into mine.

And then I wink at him. So subtly he might not even notice.

 

**BAZ**

Snow is not a subtle winker. Not a subtle anything.

After the display, the game continues. Rhys kisses Keris; Gareth slaps Rhys.

I spare some glances at Snow and catch him drinking from his glass every time.

Then Niall spins the bottle and it lands on Snow.

I raise my head to look at him as I say, “Slap.”

“Basil!” Bunce protests.

“What?” I say. “I’m always going to vote for Snow to be slapped.”

I smirk.

Simon leaves the room.

 

**SIMON**

After Niall slaps me, Baz spins the bottle and it stops before me again. There is no way that’s a coincidence.

Baz keeps smirking.

I finish my second glass and leave the room.

Baz is plotting against me again, I know it. He’s custom-built to scheme. Another day – another plot.

Baz comes for me and my stomach flips in anticipation. I follow him to the middle of the circle.

What’s he going to do? Kiss me? Slap me?

_Kiss me._

Baz places his fingers on my cheek. I missed his cold-warm touch. He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw.

He’s going to kiss me.

 

**BAZ**

I feel Simon leaning to my touch and I open my eyes again. His eyes are closed, lips parted.

And then I do it.

I slap him. Hard.

It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. (I can’t believe I used to enjoy it.) (I can’t believe I wanted to do it just some minutes ago.)

Simon opens his puppy eyes and, for a moment, I think he’s going to start crying. First-year me would be so proud.

My hand is still on his reddish cheek. And the world has gone silent. Only Simon’s breath exists and my hand on his cheek.

Almost subconsciously, I lean in and kiss him. Fuck the rules.

 

**SIMON**

“That’s enough you two lovebirds,” I hear someone saying. “You always ruin all the games.”

“Yeah, let’s keep playing,” another person adds.

I don’t care. I live here now. The rest of the world be damned.

But then Baz’s warm-cold fingers and warm-cold mouth stop touching me and I’m forced back with the rest of the world.

I take my place beside Penny.

People keep getting slapped and kissed, and I keep refilling my glass.

Three glasses of whisky don’t affect me much. Or was it four glasses? Anyway, I feel perfectly cool.

Baz hasn’t touched his drink at all today. Good. He can’t handle alcohol like I do.

But why is it so hot in here? Has someone spelled the room?

 

**BAZ**

Snow should stop drinking.

His cheeks are impossibly red and his motor coordination is even worse than in normal circumstances. And that’s to say.

He’s arguing with Bunce—or rather, he’s arguing with himself—about the room’s temperature and accusing her of  casting ‘ ** _Some like it hot_** ’.

Everyone knows you can’t cast that on a room. Even _he_ should know that.

Soon enough, Snow gets tired of the absurd discussion and attacks his glass. Again.

I can’t bring myself to look away.

He looks back at me in a way that makes my brain short circuit.

 

**SIMON**

I subtly bite my lower lip.

 

**BAZ**

Help.

 

**SIMON**

I see Baz standing up and for a moment I think—I wish—he’s coming for me, but then I realise the bottle is pointing at him.

 _No_. Someone has spun the bottle, and it has landed on Baz.

Baz steps out of the room and people start voting. “Slap,” more than one person say.

“Hey! No,” I say, without intending to speak. “Don’t slap him!” Words just come out of my mouth on their own will.

I don’t know if it’s because of me protesting but the rest all vote kiss.

Somebody is going to kiss Baz.

“Wait, no. No, no, no, no. Don’t kiss him!” I think I say. “Just slap him. I vote slap. But softly, okay? Don’t hurt him.”

Niall gets up and goes for the door. “Relax, Snow. It’s just a game. I’m not going to steal your boyfriend,” he says. So, it’s him. _He_ has landed on Baz. And _he_ is going to kiss Baz.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” I say.

Niall looks down at me, and then at Dev, but all he says is, “Whatever.”

My fists clench. “Don’t fucking kiss him, Niall,” I say through gritted teeth.

But nobody cares. Niall reaches for the doorknob and lets Baz in.

I drink down the remaining whisky in my glass.

 

**BAZ**

I walk behind Niall until we’re in the middle of the group.

Niall looks somewhere behind me, probably at Gareth or Dev. He’s spelled his eyes muddy blue today, but the spell is unstable and the effect is starting to wear off.

Speaking of blue eyes and unstable things. Snow looks like he might go nova at any second. He’s a fucking ticking time bomb that talks. And drinks. And looks back.

“Oh, fuck it,” I hear Niall say, right before he crashes his lips against mine.

There’s a haze of red around Simon. Fuck. He _is_ going to go off.

 _Simon_.

I shove Niall away. “Simon.”

“Simon,” Bunce echoes, unsuccessfully trying to calm him down. He’s so out of it.

Before I realise it, I’m right in front of him. “Simon,” I repeat. I get down on my knees and I touch his cheek with the back of my hand.

“Baz.” Simon smiles. “You’re so cold.”

And then I kiss him. Softly. Slowly. Like before.

And Simon calms down.

I take hold of Simon’s shoulders and lift him up. “Let’s go, Snow,” I say.

“Where are you taking him?” Wellbelove asks, like I’m about to sacrifice him in a satanic ritual.

“To our room,” I say, dryly.

But she isn’t having any of it. “Did you poison him?” she accuses.

“No, we didn’t poison him, Wellbelove. He did that himself,” I say. “He’s just drunk.”

Bunce turns to her and tells her, “It’s okay, Agatha.”

Wellbelove looks at her quizzically and asks, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she says.

I nod at Bunce’s direction. She nods back.

And I take it as my cue to leave.

* * *

 

It’s a hard trip all the way up to Mummers House, with Snow tugging at the hem of my uniform blazer, demanding my attention like a five-year-old.

“Baz, kiss me,” he says as I drop him on his bed.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am in love with you, stupid, and you are just playing, and it hurts,” I say, but only silence comes out of my mouth.

“Why not?” he asks again.

All I manage to say is, “You’re drunk, Snow.”

He furrows his brow and I think he’s going to deny it, but instead he says, “Call me Simon. You’ve done it before.”

“No. I haven’t,” I lie. “Shut up and sleep.”

“Okay.” he says, reluctantly. He manages to ungracefully change into his pyjamas, which is more than I gave him credit for. And then he adds, “Good night kiss?”

It doesn’t do me any good to even think about it. It does me even less good to actually do it. In fact, I think I’m digging my own grave with this.

But I do it anyway.

I kiss him and I let his hands run through my hair and I let him catch the moan that comes out from my throat. Because I’m weak.

Simon’s hands travel down and I almost let them play with the hem of my pyjama bottoms. But no, I’m not _that_ weak.

It’s hard—so damn hard— but I stop Simon’s hands from going any further.

I should run to the catacombs. That would be the wisest option.

But Simon… I can’t leave him on his own. Not like this.

He’s sprawled on his back and I think he might have passed out. I poke at his shoulder and he groans at me.

Beautiful.

I pull his blanket over his body and tell him, “Sleep, Snow.”

He only harrumphs.

I stand there before him and I can’t bring myself to look away. I think I could stay like this all night. All week. The rest of my life. Because, yes, it hurts to look at him. But it’s unbearably painful when I don’t.

“Baz.”

“Yes?”

“Stay,” he whispers. “Please.”

No. None of this does me any good. In this life, there are different kinds of people: There are winners. There are losers. And then… Then there’s me.

I lay on the bed beside him. “Good night, love,” I say, kissing his temple.

But he’s already asleep.


	6. Show him what you've got

**SIMON**

I would be lying if I said the smell of cedar and bergamot isn’t my favourite scent. It’s what I fall asleep to at night, and the first thing I notice in the morning.

And it’s because of Baz.

I have the sensation that lately everything is because of Baz. Not only the bad things, but also the good ones. And that’s new. I’m not sure how to feel about it.

“Good morning, darling,” I hear him saying behind me in the bed. No, I must have imagined it. Baz is never going to call me “darling”. The fact that we have a sort of truce doesn’t mean he’s going to magically develop romantic feelings for me. Not that I want him to. We’re good as friends–or whatever the fuck we are now.

Baz’s arms are wrapped around me and I feel him pulling me closer to him. I wouldn’t mind if we stayed like this all day.

He breathes on my neck and it sends shivers down my spine. But that’s not the only thing I notice that causes a reaction over my whole body.

Baz has morning wood.

I feel it pressed against me and I’m not even sure if Baz is aware or even awake but he’s definitely going to be after what I do: I grind against him.

I hear a gasp behind me, so I turn around. And before he can protest, I kiss him.

He moans against my mouth, which only makes me deepen the kiss and move faster against him.

The sound of Baz whimpering because of me makes me feel things I didn’t know I could feel. I pull his shirt up so there aren’t any clothes between my hand and his chest, and let my mouth travel there. Baz’s hands slid down my bare back as I kiss his abdomen. Then, I follow the trail of hair from his belly button, knowing exactly where it leads.

“Snow–”

Baz never calls me Simon. I swear he does that to spite me. But he’ll regret it. I’m going to blow his mind until all he can mutter is my name, over and over again.

I pull Baz’s pyjama bottoms just a bit and hook my thumbs into the elastic waistband of his briefs, tugging them only two or three centimeters down.

I bring my head down and blow there gently, causing an audible as well as visible reaction from Baz. Then I take the waistband between my teeth and gradually ease his pants down, my lips brushing Baz’s skin.

 

**BAZ**

Aleister–fucking–Crowley.

**SIMON** ****

As I get rid of Baz’s underwear I look up at him for a second. He’s staring back at me like I’m the only person in the entire world, and I almost forget what I’m doing. But it doesn’t matter how he looks at me – this is obviously still a game for him. So I look away.

And then I take care of his hard-on.

I bring one hand to Baz’s mouth, for him to kiss and lick and suck. Because I know he likes it.

Pleasuring Baz comes as naturally as fighting him: I know what annoys and hurts him, but I also know what makes him moan and groan in pleasure. It’s like I’ve taken a thousand classes on Baz’s subject. I have a master’s degree in Baz.

Not long after, Baz tugs at my hair, letting me know that he’s about to… well, finish. “Simon–”

I pull away and give him one last lick before finishing him off with my hand.

 

 **BAZ** ****

I seem to have lost the ability to form coherent words. Snow has that effect on me.

When I’m done, Simon lies back down beside me. I’m not used to that. Usually he would run away. “How are you feeling?” I ask.

He’s fidgeting with his hands. “I’m okay.”

“Do you remember last night?”

“Yeah,” Simon replies. He’s clearly avoiding my stare. “Sorry about that.”

And then I notice the tent in his pants. “Simon,” I say. And I know he’s going to say no but the words are out before I can even process what I’m offering: “Do you want me to…” My voice comes out low and muffled.

Snow meets my eyes. There’s a long silence and I’m about to get up when he mutters the faintest “yes” that only a vampire could hear.

Simon Snow is the sun, the earthquake, and the summer storm, all in the same day. He’s a walking plot twist. And I love it. (I love him.)

I creep my fingers under Simon’s shirt and slowly lift it up. And I kiss his skin. (I never thought I’d ever kiss Simon’s skin.) (Outside of my dreams, that is.)

I make sure to kiss every mole and freckle on Simon’s body, memorising them, drawing a map on my head. Simon is made up of constellations: Cassiopeia, on his left arm; Corona Borealis, surrounding his belly button; Perseus, on his chest; Orion, on his upper back; Pegasus, on his right upper thigh. It’s like the whole Universe belongs to him. And I want to study it forever; like a star chart.

I lose myself in Simon’s infinity while I pleasure him. And before I can find myself again, Simon grabs my hair with his fist, pulls at it and moans as he goes over the edge.

 

 **SIMON** ****

Baz makes me feel like I’ve never been kissed before. (I’ve never been kissed _this_ way before.) I should probably be more worried about the fact that this is by far the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Baz walks out of the bed abruptly and I look at him, confused.

“I need a shower,” he says.

“Oh. Uhm. Do you want me to join you?” I ask. (I actually need a shower, too.)

“It’s okay,” Baz hurries to say. “You don’t have to.”

He says it in a way that sounds like a polite gesture but I think he’s just bothered by me right now. So I shrug and say, “Hmm. I’ll just wait, then.”

 

 **BAZ** ****

As soon as Simon gets in the shower, I head for Dev and Niall’s room.

“Hey Baz,” Dev says, opening the door.

“Dev,” I say, inviting myself in. “Where’s Niall?”

Dev may be my cousin but when it comes to being alone with someone in a room, I’d say I’m more comfortable with Niall. Or even Snow.

“I don’t know,” Dev says, rubbing the nape of his neck. He sits down on his bed and looks through the window, clearly distracted. There’s obviously something going on between him and Niall that they aren’t telling me.

If I didn’t know Niall, I’d think he walked out in a hurry: he left his bed unmade and there’s clothes scattered all over. I spell it tidy and sit down on Niall’s bed.

“I didn’t know you and Snow had gone from sworn enemies to sworn boyfriends,” Dev says, turning the uncomfortable silence that had settled in the room into an even more uncomfortable conversation.

“We’re not sworn anything,” I say. “It’s just a game.”

“Really? He almost went off because Niall was kissing you.”

“ _You_ almost went off because Niall was kissing me.” I still can’t believe Dev and Niall are mad at each other. This is the first time in eight years.

I’m about to tell Dev that whatever little quarrel they have going on can be solved, when he says, “I think Niall likes you.”

What?

Wait. No. I’ve been so wrong all this time. Dev and Niall aren’t mad _at_ each other. Fuck, no. They are mad _for_ each other.

“Baz?” Dev looks at me, waiting for my reaction. I believe I’ve been stupidly staring at him for the best part of a minute.

“Dev,” I say, as calmly as I can. “Niall doesn’t like me that way.”

“Yes, he does!” he almost yells. “He spells his eyes every day now.”

I massage my forehead with my index finger. I can’t believe I have such a stupid cousin. “He wants to impress _you_.”

“That’s not true.”

“Dev,” I say, standing up. “What colour does Niall spell his eyes?”

“Muddy blue, why?”

I cock an eyebrow at him. How can he be so oblivious? I refuse to acknowledge we have the same blood. Had. “Have you ever wondered why he spells them that precise colour?”

Dev’s eyes widen in realization. (That’s his favourite colour.) “Oh.”

“Yes. Now go talk to him,” I say and reach for the door. I’m sick of this conversation. “Or… whatever you want to do with him.”

“Yeah,” I hear Dev saying as I leave. “Okay.”

 

 **SIMON** ****

Baz is not in the room when I step out of the bathroom. I’m not surprised. He’s probably still disgusted about what happened before and doesn’t want to see me.

Having the room all for myself is great, though. I can do things I usually can’t when Baz is around. Like doing homework and playing with my pen without Baz telling me I’m bothering him. Or humming.

Baz hates it when I’m humming or whistling. I think Baz just hates things that are funny. (He hates everything, really.)

He loves hating. And plotting.

Baz is one of those people who can spin a pen around his fingers effortlessly. (The tosser can do _anything_ effortlessly.) I try it once but the pen falls on my lap. I try it again and it lands on the floor. I try once more and the pen goes flying right to Baz’s bed. Now Baz would scorn me. I grab the pen and go back to my bed.

Yeah, maybe this isn’t so funny without Baz, after all. I guess most of the fun of it lies in Baz getting pissed.

It’s almost lunchtime, so I decide to go find Penny.

* * *

 

As expected from someone like Penelope, she finds me before I find her. (No idea how she does that.)

“Simon,” she presses as we head for lunch. “I was starting to get worried.”

“Why?”

“You skipped breakfast,” she says. “Again.” She says it in that unique Penny tone that is equal parts concern and accusation.

I shrug. “I overslept.”

We take our trays and sit in our usual spot in the dining hall. Then, Penny turns to me and in a funny voice she asks, “Did Baz oversleep, too?”

Baz is at the other side of the hall, all by himself. I wonder where Dev and Niall are. He’s looking boredly at his lunch, his hair still perfectly waxed and slicked back, which only increases my urge to pull at it and mess it all up. (While I kiss him.) 

He catches me staring, so I look away. “Yeah…” I say to Penny. Agatha is eating lunch all alone, too, not far from where Baz is. “Why doesn’t Agatha sit with us again?”

“I don’t know. I guess she isn’t ready yet,” says Penny. “Give her some time.”

“Penny,” I say, and watch how she takes a bite of her food. “Are you and Agatha together now?”

Penny starts coughing uncontrollably until a piece of sausage comes flying out of her mouth. Guess I should have waited for her to finish eating. “What?” she asks in disbelief when she’s recovered.

“Are you going out or not?” I repeat.

“What the fuck, Simon?”

“Answer me, Penny.”

“No. Merlin and Morgana, no. We are not together,” she says. I notice some people are staring at us.

In a lower voice, I say, “It’s okay if you are.”

“But we aren’t! Remember Micah? My _boyfriend_?”

“You could be going out with both.”

Penny pauses for a moment. “Of course I could. But I’m not,” she says. “Simon, I love Agatha but that was just part of the game,” she continues. “You more than anyone should understand.”

“Huh? Why?”

“You and Baz?”

“Oh.” Okay, I see her point.

“Simon…” Penny starts, “Are you in love with Baz?”

“No,” I say, hurriedly–almost as a reflex–but something inside me stirs.

And Penny is about to drop it, I can see it. But then she adds, “Are you sure?”

I stare at Baz who is now leaving the dining hall. A strand of hair falls across his face in a wave. I imagine myself tugging it behind his ear the way he likes it. Then, for the second time in the last twenty minutes, I imagine myself kissing him. “No,” I say at the same time I realize that I’m utterly and completely fucked.

* * *

 

 

 **BAZ** ****

When Snow comes back to the room I look up from my textbook and he smiles at me. I almost smile back.

He flops down on his bed and starts playing with a pen until it inevitably goes flying to my lap.

Every. Damn. Time.

Simon stands up and comes closer to my desk. He fakes an apologetic face and extends his hand.

And I… I take it. (His hand.) (With my hand.) (We’re holding hands.)

Fuck.

There’s a long silence in which neither of us moves nor says anything and it feels like we are trapped in this awkward moment forever.

We stare at our–intertwined–hands. Then I look up at him. Snow meets my eyes, then looks at the hands. Again.

Then back up at me.

For Crowley’s sake, this is stupid.

Not without a great deal of difficulty and reluctancy, I let go of his hand.

I clear my throat and grab the pen. “Your stupid pen.”

“Uhm. Yeah. Sorry,” he says. But he doesn’t move. “There’s a game this evening,” he blurts out. “Are you coming?”

Definitely. “Maybe,” I say. “What game?”

“Truth or dare.”

I pretend to think about it. “If I finish my homework, I’ll go.”

“Good. It’s after dinner,” Snow says, still standing before me. “Should we go tell Dev and Niall?”

“Since when are you and me a ‘we’?” I spit, crashing any chance I had to turn this thing between us into a _something_.

“Right. We aren’t. Shouldn’t you go, though?”

“They might be busy.”

“Oh. Okay,” Snow says as he falls back onto his bed.

* * *

 

I actually finish my homework before five.

Dinner isn’t until seven, so that gives me plenty of time to get bored. I take a book and try to read for a while, but I can feel Snow’s eyes on me, which makes it a Herculean task to concentrate.

I light a fire in my palm and watch as the flames grow larger.

“Baz!” Snow shouts. “You’re flammable.”

“So is everything.”

“I’m serious,” he insists.

“So am I,” I say, but extinguish the fire anyway.

Snow sits up so that he’s facing me, and looks at my hand. “Can you teach me?”

“It’s not something you can learn to do,” I say. And then, because he looks hurt and thinks I think he’s stupid, I add, “I mean, it’s in my blood, it comes as naturally as breathing to me.”

“Oh.” Snow seems to think about it. “Do you have blood?”

I scowl at him. “I could teach you some spells, though. If you want.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I mean, yes. Please.”

I try teaching him **blessing in disguise** and **piece of cake** , but his magic is too strong and chaotic he can’t make the spells work correctly. (He ends up dressed as a priest with a piece of pie on his hand.) (Not that he complains about that.)

“ **Nothing else matters** ,” I mutter, to help Simon focus on his magic; but, at the same time I cast the spell, he puts a hand on my shoulder and something happens. A surge of magic–Simon’s magic–runs through my body as the spell takes form and the room disappears. Everything disappears. It’s only Simon and me, nothing else.

Then Simon pulls back.

“How did you do that?” he asks.

“I didn’t. It was you.”

I try again without him and the spell works just normal. Simon tries doing it himself but it doesn’t work, either.

“It only works if we do it together,” I say.

Simon’s hand is back on my shoulder. “It’s almost like–”

“We are…”

I can feel Simon’s blood pumping and his lips are getting closer but so is his neck and I think I might bite him.

So I step away. “Sorry, I need to–” I say as I walk towards the door.

Somehow Simon seems to understand. “Do you want me to come with you?” he offers.

“No. Stay here,” I tell him.

“I’m coming with you.”

 

 **SIMON** ****

We end up going to the catacombs.

Baz must be mental if he thinks I’m scared of him.

“Don’t look,” he says.

“I’m not scared,” I tell him. “I’m not disgusted, Baz. Just do it,” I insist. “It’s okay, I promise.”

That seems to reassure him, so he lets himself relax. His fangs pop out as he catches a rat.

Wicked.

 

 **BAZ** ****

“Do you want to go back to the room?” Simon asks when I’m done feeding.

It’s way past nine. I don’t tell Simon about the game because I want to spend more time with him. Alone. (Plus, I don’t want him to drink.)

“I want to see the stars,” I say before I can’t stop myself.

If Snow is surprised, he doesn’t show it. He just looks up and says, “Let’s go to the ramparts.”

* * *

 

I didn’t know it was possible to feel this much. To be so in love that your heart doesn’t fit in your rib cage.

“Hey, Baz.” We’re lying on the floor. Snow’s head is resting on my chest and he makes my body vibrate as he speaks.  The wind is blowing gently on our faces.

“Yes?”

“What’s the name of that bright star over there?” he asks, pointing somewhere up in the starry sky.

 _Simon,_  I think, looking at him. Then I look up to where he’s pointing. “That’s Alpha Persei,” I say. “From the Perseus constellation.”

“Oh, nice.”

I take my wand and make a spell so lines of light come out of it. Then I trace the constellation for Simon to see.

“Wow. It’s amazing,” he says. “I knew you’d know.”

“You have it. On your body”

“What?”

I place a hand under Simon’s shirt, right on his chest, and trace the moles I memorized before. “Here.”    

Simon meets my hand on his chest.

“Let’s do it again,” he says.

“Do what?”

“The magic.”

I point my wand at the stars and say, “ **Nothing else matters**.”

Everything around us disappears and then it’s just us. And the stars. I’ve never seen magic like this before–it’s like I’m drunk on magic. (Drunk on Snow.)

 

 **SIMON** ****

Magic takes a whole new meaning when I’m with Baz.

We talk about a lot of things. Important stuff. Meaningless stuff. I know the game must have started hours ago. But I’m right where I want to be.

It’s nice being Baz’s friend for once. It’s really, really nice. Too bad that it’s not what I want.

I want to be more than his friend.

I prop myself on one elbow and shift my body so that i’m looking at him. My hand is on his cheek. Baz is looking back at me.

When I was little, I used to sneak out to watch a science programme on TV. I remember this bloke called Neil something saying that when a subatomic particle is accelerated to near the speed of light, time slows down.

I think my heart might have just done that.

Slowly, I lean over and kiss Baz, because I can. (Because I want to.)

(I kiss him because I need to.)

 

 **BAZ** ****

I didn’t know a single day could hold so many breathtaking moments.


	7. (Don't) Fall in the Trap

**SIMON**

I wake up to Baz sleeping on my chest.

We’re on his bed, I think. Not that it matters.

What matters is Baz’s peaceful face. He’s impossibly graceful, even when sleeping. His hair falls in beautiful waves across his face, his nostrils slightly opening to allow the air in. His chest rises and falls as he breathes, soft sounds escaping his faintly parted lips. He looks so relaxed that he doesn’t seem evil at all. (He doesn’t even  _feel_  evil, lately.)

Baz looks fragile right now. But not the something-I-could-easily-finish-off kind of fragile. He looks like something I want to protect.

I resist the urge to tuck his hair behind his ear and ignore the Penny-like voice in my head warning me, “ _Six times_ , Simon.”

No, he doesn’t feel evil. Baz feels like home. (And I’m not getting up.) (Like, ever again.)

Baz. What matters is Baz.

Baz grinds his teeth together and clenches his jaw, which tells me that he’s about to wake up. (He always does that.) But I just… want to stay longer just like this.

 

**BAZ**

When I wake up, Simon is in the exact same spot he was when he fell asleep: Below me. Even with his eyes closed, I can tell he’s awake. (I know Simon’s sleeping face, trust me.) (It usually involves a greater deal of slobbering.)

I assume he’s pretending to sleep only because he regrets being in my bed in the first place. Either way, I won’t pressure him.

I will just…

I will just stay a little longer like this.

 

**SIMON**

Baz isn’t moving but I know he’s not sleeping. I wonder what’s keeping him from getting up.

Then I realise one of my arms is wrapped around his shoulder, immobilising him. I guess I should move it aside and free him. Yeah, I should do that. It’s what anyone would do.

But I don’t want to. (I don’t want him to go.)

 

**BAZ**

Snow’s stomach growls but neither of us moves.

Listen, I know that the longer I stay with him like this, the greater his absence will hurt me. I fucking  _know_. But that won’t stop me from indulging myself as much I can. It’s like I’ve been presented a treasure, something I’ve wanted my whole damn life, under the condition that I had to return it the next day. Could anyone blame me for wanting that day to last forever?

Well, I’ll fucking murder time if I need to.

Simon’s stomach growls again, reminding me of how poorly he’s been eating these past few weeks. (Mostly because he’s been stressing out about playing his stupid game with me.)

Even if it’s his own fault, and even when I’m still supposed to hate him—I obviously don’t—my contradictory wish to stay with Simon is only overpowered by the urge to give him whatever he needs.

Carefully, I retrieve Simon’s arm from my shoulders and I sit up. (A bloody Struggle.)

Simon opens his eyes but still doesn’t move from my bed. He runs a hand through his messy curls and says, “Hey.”

“Good morning.” I don’t call him ‘darling’ like I did yesterday, this time he might actually hear me. Snow averts his eyes as I get dressed. When I’m done, I tell him, “I’ll go get some sandwiches.” I don’t ask him to come with me, I don’t want to give other people the chance to see him and snatch him away from me. (I just want him to stay here forever.) (Or, at least, the rest of the Sunday.)

Simon nods. “Okay.”

 

**SIMON**

I’m still on his bed when Baz comes back. He’s brought enough sandwiches to feed an entire army. “Cook Pritchard insisted,” he says.

Baz would never let me eat on his bed, so I take one of the sandwiches and settle on my bed instead. He gives me one of his death glares that probably translates into “I know it’s your bloody bed, but it’s still fucking gross.”

I shrug. Baz rolls his eyes. (Romantic feelings aside, I still like getting under his skin.)

Baz doesn’t like eating in front of people. He never does. But I know he eats when no one can see him. (Like at night, when he thinks I’m asleep.) After going with him to the catacombs yesterday, I thought he’d be past this. But he isn’t, apparently.

“Uhm. Do you need to…  _You know_ , get back to the catacombs?” I ask.

Baz avoids my stare. “Not yet,” he says, but still doesn’t eat.

I take one of the sandwiches and give it to Baz. “Just eat.”

“Uh… I’m not hungry.”

“Baz,” I say. “It’s fine. I… I like it.” I like  _you_ , I think, but I don’t tell him.

Reluctantly, Baz takes the sandwich and gives it a bite.

I don’t know why but that makes me smile. Like, Smile, capital S. Shit-eating grin, with teeth and all. Baz will never admit it but I can see him fighting back a smile.

When we’re done with breakfast—or lunch, I don’t know—Baz spells my bed clean of breadcrumbs.

I don’t want to leave the room—I don’t want to leave  _Baz_ —so I take out my magic words homework and sit on my desk. “Uhm… Baz?”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Yes?”

“Can you help me with this?”

 

**BAZ**

Snow actually listens to me while I explain him what’s wrong with his homework exercises. He doesn’t protest, he just nods along and corrects them. I have to admit he’s not that bad at it when he tries.

When we’re finished, I regret not having explained it all wrong to him, so now I could have an excuse to go over the exercises again. (And stay more time with him.)

Snow grabs the papers to put them back into his bag, but Simon can’t help being Simon—not even for a bloody day—and he cuts his finger with the paper sheet.

A drop of blood appears on the tip of his index finger and I have to remind myself to stay put.

Simon notices my distress and starts walking towards the door. “I’ll go–”

“Don’t,” I shout after him. He stops on his tracks, turning around. “You don’t need to go,” I say. “I can help.”

“Okay.”

I take his finger and cast  ** _Get well soon_**.

And then I kiss it.

 

**SIMON**

There are only two explanations: Either I’m dreaming, or I have magickally stepped into a parallel dimension. (I think the first one.)

That, or Baz is really kissing my finger.

But that’s impossible, right?

I want him to stop kissing my finger and start kissing my lips instead.

 

**BAZ**

Simon is looking at me in that way he does, that tells me something incredible is about to happen.

 

**SIMON**

Baz’s lips are so close and I can only think about kissing him. It seems that’s all I can think about, lately.

 

**BAZ**

We kiss, like we’ve done so many times before. Except, this time, it’s me who starts the kiss.

I kiss him, because I’m an idiot. Because I’m stupidly in love with him. And because a small part of me—an awfully dumb one—believes he can also, maybe, someday, love me back.

 

**SIMON**

It’s a soft kiss. Baz’s hands are on my face and I put my arms around his neck.

Baz lets out a low moan against my mouth and I… want to stay like this forever.

But this isn’t a dream.

This isn’t a parallel dimension, either.

And yeah, there  _is_  a third explanation: Baz is still playing the game. And I’m an idiot and have fallen in his fucking trap.

I let go of him.

I make sure to slam the door behind me as I run away from Baz.

 

**BAZ**

I don’t dare follow Simon.

I knew it. I’ve always known. Since Simon started his idiotic game, I fucking knew that sooner or later it would end. Still, I can’t believe I was so bloody foolish so as to hope he would get feelings for me along the way.

 

**SIMON**

I’m on the ramparts before I know what I’m doing.

I sit on the floor, around the same spot Baz and I were yesterday. Placing my palms on the ground, I rest my weight on my hands, and I look up at the sky.

Even though it’s not completely dark yet, I try to remember where the Perseus constellation is supposed to be. As I do, my hand makes its way to my chest, tracing the moles I have there, the same way Baz did yesterday.

The wind blows against my face, making me shiver. That’s weird. I’m always warm, and I’d swear yesterday night was even cooler. Plus, Baz was here, and he’s  _freezing_. But somehow I feel colder today. Is it possible to physically miss someone? Because I think that’s what’s happening to me.

Baz. I fucking hate him.

(I don’t.)

Merlin.

I sigh. Because what else can you do when you realise you’re stupidly in love?

I just fucking miss Baz.

 

**BAZ**

When Simon gets back to the room, it’s way past midnight.

The last thing I want now is dealing with him rejecting me—again—so I pretend to be sleeping. I’ll deal with that tomorrow. Or never.

 

**SIMON**

After everything that happened this weekend, going back to the weekday routine seems as easy as learning Arabic in one afternoon.

During magic words, I almost lose my shit. We go through the exercices I did with Baz yesterday and my traitorous thoughts can’t stop providing me very vivid images of Baz kissing me. Also, the tosser keeps sending glances over at me, so he makes sure that not even a second passes without me acknowledging his existence. (As if I weren’t already hyper aware of it.)

By lunchtime I’m about to go off.

 

**BAZ**

I take another swig of my tea as I regret every last decision I’ve made in my life.

Dev is telling Niall how “sparkling” and “deep” his eyes are. I roll mine for the umpteenth time. Niall actually fucking blushes and draws Dev closer to him, kissing his lips, no consideration towards me whatsoever. I am fucking  _family_ , for Crowley’s sake.

And after Snow rejecting me yesterday, the last thing I need is a live display of teenage hormones.

Speaking of which, Snow is about to go nova at the other end of the dining hall. I wish I could go there and calm him down, like I did the other day.

But I fucking can’t. I have no right. Snow made sure of it.

 

**SIMON**

“Staring at the plate isn’t going to make the food disappear,” Penelope says, bringing me back to reality. “I thought you loved Watford’s roast beef.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m just not hungry.”

Penny furrows her brow. “What are you sorry for?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Everything?”

“Simon,” she says, shifting her position on the chair so that she’s facing me. “Stop thinking everything depends on you.”

Penny’s gaze lacks its default accusatory, judgmental, undertone. Her expression is soft, and I think she’s worried about me. But that makes me feel worse. I don’t want her to worry, it’s not her fault. It’s Baz’s fault. Everything is Baz’s fault.

I stare at him. He catches my eye momentarily and then looks down at his tea, his hand playing with the spoon. And I can’t help but wonder if he’s okay.

I look back at Penny. “Simon?”

I don’t say anything—I can’t, really—I just take her hand and look her in the eye for a moment. I glance at Baz, then stare back at Penny again. And she just knows. She knows what I’m trying to say: I’m in love with him.

I love when I don’t need to use words to make Penny understand me. I don’t think I’d be able to tell her everything out loud.

She doesn’t say “I told you, Simon,” which would be fair. She squeezes my hand, meaning: “I know.”

I bite my lip and squeeze Penny’s hand back.

She twitches the corner of her lips into a tiny smile, which means, “I’m here.”

I wonder if Penny has cast a silent spell or something to make me feel better, because it’s like magic: Even though everything is exactly the same, my mood is instantly lifted. And I know I’ll survive. I mean, I’ve killed a dragon; surely handling unrequited love can’t be that hard.

I smile back at her.

Slowly, an idea starts to take shape in my head, and by the end of the day I’m sure of it: I want to try it with Baz. The friendship thing. This could obviously also be a part of his evil plan but, whatever. I’ve decided I’d rather be Baz’s friend than his nothing-at-all.

I don’t know, I just fucking miss him.

 

**BAZ**

When I get back to the room, Simon is already there. He’s pacing nervously across the small space in the room. “Snow. Stop.”

Simon stops to look at me. “I—” he starts. Then, he avoids my stare and starts pacing again.

“Just sit the fuck down.”

Simon obeys me, sitting on the chair before his desk, only to start tapping his foot against the leg of the chair.

Asking Simon to calm down is like asking a stone to start speaking. (Stupid. Pointless.) I sigh. “What is it, Snow?”

Simon looks back up at me. He swallows and says, “I like this.” My heart does a little flip, because I imagine him saying, “I like  _you_ , Baz.” But instead, he continues, “Being friends. I like it better than fighting.”

Still, it’s more than I’d ever hoped for. “Fine,” I say, my voice breaking.

Simon stands up and comes closer. And then he hugs me.

My knees almost give out. Crowley, he can’t just go and do shit like that without a warning.

When I’m recovered, I melt into his arms like the weak person that I am. Because I love him. And he likes this better than fighting.

 

**SIMON**

Baz hugs me back.

Okay, yeah, I’m like so deep into his trap that it’d take me years to find the way out.

But I don’t care. I don’t want any way out. I’d gladly fall in it again—fucking jump right in—if that meant one single more moment like this with Baz.

 

-TBC-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


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